Monday, February 28, 2005

Perhaps I've only noticed because my wife's been in Amsterdam for a week smoking-up our 401K but I'm beginning to really miss seeing titties. Not only her titties in particular just titties in general. The older I get the more I notice that there are less titties around. There was a time when motorcycle magazines bore myriad mammary. Face it guys, that's why we bought motorcycles in the first place. So we could see titties up close, personal and jiggling. And jiggling titties are the only excuse for riding a hardtail. Face facts; Motorcycling made titties immediately accessible to our testosterone charged hands with the added benefit of providing portability. And if men had teats we'd still be living in caves and eating roots.

"Where have all the titties gone?" you may ask. I haven't a clue but I know where they're not; Wal-Mart. Despite a fresh crop added to the population on a daily basis there are no titties at Wal-Mart. There are no titties anywhere on the shelves of Wal-Mart. There are no titties on the DVDs sold in Wal-Mart. There are no titties on the Compact Discs sold in Wal-Mart. There are no titties on the geriatric greeters, who used to own their own businesses but are now forced to smile at you while at home they skip meals, collect cans, and pinch pennies so they can afford to take a bus to Canada to fill their Prozac, Lipitor and Viagra perscriptions. Most of all, as I'm sure you've figured out, there are no titties in the motorcycle magazines at Wal-Mart.

Iron Horse was the greatest motorcycle magazine on the planet. It didn't matter that their writers could barely construct a complete and proper sentence, that the layout was visually repulsive or that only three companies in the country would advertise in the rag. Iron Horse had two saving graces, possibly the two most important ingredients in motorcycling; Titties and Testicles.

A few decades ago three bikers, one American with a screw loose and two patch holders from the Moscow branch traversed the USSR. The triumvirate tooled through the dreaded Iron Curtain on three antique beater Harleys. During the trip they survived every mechanical malady that machines running magnetos and tube tires could generate.

On a dark and moonless night with only one of three headlights functioning, a feat made possible because of the makeshift jumper cables fastened to it from the one bike with a working generator—itself tethered by similar wiring to the third bike which boasted the only working battery, they came upon a military checkpoint. Secure in the knowledge that if stopped the bikes would never fire up again and they'd be vacationing at a Siberian labor camp they pegged the throttles, stood on the floorboards and blew through the checkpoint WFO smiling and waving. The guards were in such shock that they didn't even lift their weapons.

I read about it in Iron Horse and as I recall, the reason for the trip was so one of the three could visit his girlfriend. They did it for the titties! Titties proudly pictured in Iron Horse magazine. The original Iron Horse has long been out of print although the name is still owned by descendants of the publisher. Rumored to be in gestation thanks to artificial insemination and cash infusion Iron Horse might return*, probably watered down to the consistency of day-old gruel and definitely without the titties. Because Wal-Mart won't sell the rag if its got titties front and centerfold. And Wal-Mart sells more magazines than our politicians have pork barrel projects and tax cuts.

The only American rag running today that could even be compared content-wise to the old Horse is The Horse-Back Street Choppers. You can buy the teat-less wonder at Wal-Mart.

Motorcycle industry analysts bemoan the ageing of our sport's customer base. It seems that every few years we find out that the average rider is about...our age. Which is of course, older than we were when the previous study was done. Motorcycling has no farm team rising through the ranks. Yet according to the Motorcycle Industry Council's most recent Press Release, we sold more than a million motorcycles last year. The last time bike sales numbers were that high three wackos on rat-bikes were riding across the Soviet Republic just to get their hands on a set of titties. Rumors are rolling about that the Big Box stores are quietly buying up franchises for motorcycle dealerships. Some are already practicing by selling cheap Chinese knock-offs. Soon they'll get good at it and titties will be totally eliminated from motorcycling.

Not to worry though, we'll all be able to get minimum-wage jobs with no benefits working as greeters to the Big Box Bike Department and at that point even if we get to see any titties we won't remember what to do about it.

‘Till next month my friends, ride well, ride far, ride fast and remember that you're only as old as the woman you feel.

mk...............=o&o>

*since this was written the original Iron Horse is back. And I maintain my opinions. -mk